


So This Is Christmas

by vianne78



Series: Nate [13]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: A lot of feels and fluff here, Boys Kissing, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Codsworth and Danse bond, Established Relationship, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Feels, Love, M/M, Making Love, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Sex, True Love, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, ok I'd call it porn but honestly it's more fluffy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-02-18 16:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13104204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vianne78/pseuds/vianne78
Summary: Christmas is among the things Nate misses most from his pre-war life. Danse can't bring the people back, but surely he can revive some traditions.The first chapter is still safe and fluffy. As promised, the sweet, happy sex has been added as the second chapter. You're welcome.





	1. Just Like Christmas

 

It was late November when Nate finally got around to clearing up the house next to his own. He’d had plans for it for quite some time, but until now, there had always been too much on his plate to start a long-term pet project like this - after all, this was nothing necessary for anyone’s survival. This was entirely selfish.

Nate wanted to make this house a new home for him and Danse.

It wasn’t that he wanted to forget. He didn’t, and wouldn’t, ever. He loved his pre-war house and every heartbreaking, funny, bittersweet memory in it, but he felt like it was time to maybe build something new, too. So, he’d take a tiny sidestep and fix this wreck next door, bit by bit.

Nate was through with most of the debris and taking down the last faded scraps of the pre-war halloween decorations still hanging on the walls, when it suddenly dawned on him. December was just around the corner. Christmas was just around the corner.

He froze, a torn cut-out of a black cat in his hands. Christmas.

Like many other holidays, christmas didn’t really exist in the wasteland, not the way it had before the bombs. For a long while, Nate had almost forgotten it himself, had maybe acknowledged the time of year, but as no more than a distant, fleeting thought. How many had he missed now? Two? No, three? More? The first one he didn’t even remember, exactly - those first weeks out of the Vault were foggy at best, and maybe it was for the better. He’d found Dogmeat from the Red Rocket sometime that December, and then Preston with his survivors soon after… but that was about the full extent of his memories. Railroad and the Brotherhood had effectively divided his attention around the second christmastime, and the third - well. He had destroyed the Institute a couple of months prior and had been grieving his family all over again.

So this would be his fourth, in this world he had found himself in.

Growing up, christmas had been a big, crazy, wonderful deal, eagerly anticipated and carefully prepared, full of goofy traditions and always spent with a large pack of aunts, uncles, grandparents and cousins. Nora had loved it just as much, even her parents had joined in. And how they’d been waiting for their first ever christmas with Shaun - to finally add their own family twist to the absolutely perfect madness of the tradition.

The flurry of memories caught Nate off guard, he had to lean on the wall, and then shakily slide down to sit on the grimy floor. The colors, and the music. Someone had always been playing the piano, Nate himself at least as often as the others. All the lights, candles, the crackling fireplace. The scent of gingerbread and fresh spruce permeating the house for weeks. Faces of loved ones, their voices and laughs.

Had he really forgotten all that for this long?

 

 

***

 

 

Danse was sitting by a weapon workbench, ankle crossed over his knee, gun barrel and a cleaning rod all but forgotten in his hands. His eyes followed Nate as the vault dweller emerged from the empty house to fetch more plywood, and then disappeared back inside.

Something was... off. Had been for a couple of days, but when Danse tried to ask, Nate had just kissed him, assuring everything was fine. The hint of sadness lurking right behind that smile told a different story, but Danse didn’t want to prod, convinced he’d only manage to trample all over whatever it was and make it worse.

It was usually Danse who had trouble sleeping, but just last night he’d woken up to an empty bed. His heart had jumped straight into his throat. The recent close-call was still all too fresh in his mind, and he had frantically fought the mountain of blankets and pillows, almost falling on his face in the process and stubbing his toe on the door frame hard enough to make his eyes water.

Curses had died in his throat and Danse had forgotten the toe as soon as he’d found Nate sitting in the dark living room, elbows resting on his knees, staring into nothing. He sat next to him, quietly offering what support he could by just being there. They had ended up falling asleep together right there on the sofa, and Danse was none the wiser in the morning.

“Care to share?”

Danse looked up. Valentine was lighting a cigarette, glancing at him with his glowing but strangely comforting eyes. Danse’s first instinct was to clam up and firmly decline - a habit that was hard to shake - but he was stuck, and to get help he knew he would need to talk. The detective had proven trustworthy time and time again, and Danse not only trusted but even very much liked Nick. He sighed.

“I suppose I have to. Maybe you can make sense of it.”

Nick sat down to listen and didn’t interrupt, just smoked his cigarette, nodding here and there. When Danse was through, they sat in silence for a few moments, both lost in their thoughts.

“You said he’d started cleaning that house, when you first noticed something was bothering him? The house that used to have all those old decorations?”

Danse perked up.  
“Yes. Think it has something to do with the project?”

“Not exactly,” Nick drawled and tossed the cigarette butt into the fire barrel by the armor workbench, shaking his head. “Not so much the project than the time of year.”

Danse finally set the gun barrel and cleaning rod on the table and got on his feet, frowning.  
“I’m not sure I follow.” He started pacing, hands clasping behind his back.

Nick’s thoughtful gaze followed Danse.  
“I sometimes forget people don’t remember the things I do. The things he does. The world was… different.” There was a wistful sort of smile playing on the corners of Nick’s mouth.

“This wasteland resilience, and the whole rebuilding thing going on now has its charm, sure, but there are things even I sorely miss, certain traditions among them. I’m guessing he might feel the same - just, maybe, more strongly.”

Danse slowed his restless step but remained quiet, and Nick elaborated.  
“We know he grew up in a close-knit family - not to mention he’d just started one of his own - and right now we’re in the middle of what would have been big family deals in the old world. Halloween for one, but there was also thanksgiving… and christmas.”

Danse grunted and stopped altogether, leaning his shoulder on the concrete wall by the workbenches, tucking hands into his pockets. Nick’s eyes glowed through the perfect ring of smoke he’d just blown, as Danse lifted his gaze to meet the detective’s.

“I guess it’s possible something like that’d only come up now... He has been busy for a long time.”

Nick huffed, amused. “Understatement of two centuries,” he muttered, slowly standing up to go back inside. He paused at the door, glancing over his shoulder.  
“We have plenty of time, you know. If you’d like to try your hand in, say, decorations and gift wrapping.”

Danse didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Anything. Anything at all. I - it’s just… I only have a vague idea of what’s involved. I can’t do this alone.”

“I can pretty much guarantee you’ll have all the help you need, all you have to do is ask Codsworth.” Nick tugged the brim of his hat to hide his face as he turned, but Danse still caught a glimpse of his grin. “Deathclaw will make one hell of a roast, but the tree hunting’s really gonna be a bitch.”

 

 

***

 

 

When Danse asked if he would be willing to help, Codsworth was absolutely beside himself. When the old butler was through the initial gushing, he promptly proceeded to making plans and producing test menus, recruiting and commanding his troops like a buoyant but decisive holiday general. Soon every available pair of hands was secretly working to bring christmas into Sanctuary Hills.

Danse spent a few days educating himself on the whole concept. He’d read a glossary from some history book, but was only familiar with the rather pale Brotherhood version - more plentiful rations, booze and perhaps some uplifting tunes, played through the speakers all over the Citadel. It was slowly dawning on him just how much more it used to be to many.

The more he read and listened to Nick, the more Danse thought this was one tradition that’d suit the wasteland perfectly. It had crossed plenty of cultural boundaries all over the world, joining people of various backgrounds in a shared celebration - even enemy soldiers over battlefields.

Codsworth’s stories were much more personal, and Danse was mesmerized.  
“How do you know so much about everything, even his childhood? I thought you hadn’t been with them all that long,” Danse asked from his vantage point on one of the counters in the Kitchen, and thought he saw Codsworth freeze for a fraction of a second before answering.

“Oh, didn’t it come up already? I was sure I… you see, his mother wanted to make sure I had all the necessary information to ensure his happiness, even after she had - why, it was as if she knew something would happen soon - oh, but I’m rambling, do forgive me…”

The butler whirled around to give another plate of samples to Danse.  
“Which of these do you think? Remember, spongy but soft and light, not chewy.”

Codsworth snatched a whisk and tended to another batter that was waiting on the counter. Danse took the first absentminded bite, frowned, and discarded sample number one (far too spongy and not sweet enough).

“Where was I? Ah, yes. Mother Adams borrowed me for a weekend once, quite early on. She claimed she needed help baking for a charity event - baking, of all things! I still can’t believe no-one seemed to suspect a thing - she absolutely loathed baking and volunteered for anything but that,” Codsworth chuckled, and then the hesitant tone came back.

“She borrowed me to upload family history into me. All manner of recordings, videos, pictures, music and favorite books on tapes and memory cards - all the diaries she had kept of the household, of their life and quirks. Of Nate, her baby boy. How he grew up and ended up going to war, becoming a hero…”

Codsworth slowed to a stop, hovered in front of the improvised batters and pastries.

“I suppose it is rather bold to suggest such a thing, but I feel as if - in a way, I became a part of that history that day. As if I had been there myself. Of course it was her family as seen through her eyes, but after the... it was very much like seeing it all with my own. Mother Adams trusted me with her son, and I have tried my utmost to be worth that trust ever since.”

Neither of them broke the silence that followed. Deep in thought, Danse went through the test pieces on the plate. Maybe ramming all those memories into Codsworth had initiated a far bigger change than Nate’s mother had intended - or maybe, to some extent, she had. From what Danse had gathered so far, she had been one razor-sharp, wise lady.

The more Danse thought about it, the more it made sense - it certainly explained a great deal when it came to Codsworth’s exceptional personality. Codsworth’s peculiarly warm, caring attitude towards Nate had always been more like that of a family member, not merely a pre-programmed household robot.

Just a couple of years ago, had someone dared to suggest Danse would soon refer to a robot as a family member, he would have sent the poor clairvoyant to have their head examined - and then made them clean the Prydwen’s latrines and showers with a toothbrush. Twice. Every week. For a year.

 _I need to get this right. All of this_ , Danse thought and finally set the plate on the counter, pointing at two half-eaten samples out of the bunch.

“These two. Both outstanding,” he said, and then he smiled. Really smiled. Codsworth didn’t quite seem to know what to do with all his limbs.

“I’ll be asking one more favor from you - I think I know what we’ll be getting him, and I’ll need you for that, too, old friend.” Danse ran his hand through his hair sheepishly.  
“Would you… I’d be most grateful if you would help me with his present.”

Old friend. For the first time, Danse used the same term of endearment Nate so often did. And he was still smiling. Codsworth nearly tripped over his own words saying yes.

 

 

***

 

 

“Mmh… no, not quite there -”

“Talk to me, babe. Tell me what I need to do.”

“I think it’s still… yeah, right there, Preston. A bit more - more - oh, _oh!_ Almost there, almost… _yes!_ ” Piper squealed, and Preston jumped down from the crate to see the result for himself.

It had put up a real fight, but the stubborn tree topper was finally standing straight. With a few layers of paint and some fabric, an old garden gnome had been turned into a hopefully passable Santa. The tree itself was made entirely of sunbleached branches, and now, with all the decorations, it was actually a nice substitute for the real thing.

Piper eyed the former gnome as she leaned toward her boyfriend.  
“Why does it still look like it’ll climb down at night and murder us all in our beds?”

“That top branch is so far up its ass, I can guarantee it’s not going anywhere,” Preston murmured back under his breath, and Piper hastily muffled a snort with her hand.

Sturges’ voice carried through the window. “All hands off the wires? Can I turn the switch? Okay. Here goes.”

The strings of colorful lights flickered and then turned on, making the whole Kitchen glow softly. It was like something out of a fairytale. The tables in the middle had been moved together to form one huge one, decorated branches hanging over it, and over the booths by the walls. Everyone had taken time to help the kids turn piles of old light bulbs, mirror pieces, scraps of metal and paper into decorations that now seemed to float in mid-air, reflecting the lights and making everything glitter.

“Here! I’m finished, just in the nick time. Not only tablecloths, but drapes, too,” Mama McNamara wheezed from the door, all but buried under a mountain of red fabrics, snapping all of them back to attention. They dove right back into the busy and rather noisy preparations, and if the smiles were anything to go by, this would absolutely become a tradition in the settlement.

 

 

***

 

 

Luckily, Codsworth had a habit of getting into baking marathons or serious recipe modifying sprees, so the enticing smells steadily wafting from the Kitchen for three consecutive days had been nothing too out of the ordinary. Nate was too under the weather and preoccupied to pay attention anyway.

Danse had thought keeping him away from the Kitchen - and from seeing the occasional settler sneaking around with armful of decorations or gifts - would be trickier, and he had begun working on the house with Nate in order to have eyes on him at all times. It had hardly been necessary.

“How’s he doing?” Nick asked, taking a freshly cut plank from Danse and putting it on top of the correct pile. Steady hammering echoed from within the house.

“I’m really hoping this’ll work,” Danse grunted, carefully measuring and marking another plank. His frown was even deeper than usual.

“That good, huh? Well, one more day, then we’ll see.”

 

 

***

 

 

The memories had been crushing and overwhelming, making him withdraw a bit, and Nate knew his moping had made Danse worry - and still he hadn’t managed to explain. A grown man, a decorated war hero, was missing his mom after all this time. He _missed_ those christmases and his whole family, so much it felt like a physical ache. How did you bring something like that up with someone who hadn’t even been given memories of a family? Nate would just come off as whiny and small, or worse, end up hurting Danse.

Just this morning (christmas morning, as it happened) Nate had decided enough was enough, that he was ready to snap out of it - to find a way to bring it up, and then make up for the past few weeks. But Danse had beat him to it, surprised him by asking him to close his eyes and keep them closed until he said otherwise.

Danse proceeded to help him dress. He was balancing on one foot, Danse kneeling in front of him, when his other foot got tangled in the pant leg. Laugh bubbled out as he hastily grasped for something, anything to prevent him from falling, ending up one hand in Danse’s hair and the other against the wall.

Hearing that laugh, Danse swiftly got on his feet and claimed his mouth. There was relief written in the urgent press of his lips, and then plenty of heat and promise, until Nate was out of breath and disheveled - and still, as asked, his eyes remained closed.

“Good boy,” Danse praised, and Nate heard both the rough edge and the smirk in his voice, answering with a smile of his own. It wasn’t enough to distract Danse from whatever he was up to, and Nate was more curious by the minute. The sweater he’d been given was a little itchy, and he was sure it was new.

Soon Nate was being led through Sanctuary (“No peeking, soldier.”). Danse’s hand was warm and dry in his, crispy air nipping his nose and cheeks. Maybe they’d see some snow later? Every step, he felt lighter. A persistent little smile lingered on his lips again.

“Careful now, a couple of steps here -”  
Up the steps - a door opening, warmth and truly divine smells pouring out, and then -  
“Okay. You can open your eyes.”

 

 

***

 

 

He stood there, stunned, for what felt like _ages_. It took a moment or two to even recognize this glimmering space to be the Kitchen, all dressed up for christmas. All the lights, decorations hanging everywhere, the tree…

There was a _tree_. With presents under it. And the song in the background, it was - it was Frosty the Snowman.

Danse touched his shoulder, jolting him out of the initial shock. He had to blink to get rid of the faint prickle in his eyes, turning to look at the man he loved.

“Merry christmas, baby,” Danse said with a careful smile, and Nate swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“How -” he managed, but Danse just shook his head, smile widening. The whole settlement was there, waiting for him, his friends, his whole family gathered together - several of them wearing the silliest patchwork christmas sweaters imaginable. Gaping at all the dangling ornaments and two-headed reindeers on their clothes, he remembered the suspicious itchiness and looked down -

His sweater said “All I want for christmas is Danse.”

Danse's had blue christmas ornaments, one of which had a golden "111" on it.

The astonished grin nearly split his face in two, and right then Codsworth appeared, carrying a tray with a humongous roast to the table. Was that... deathclaw? The butler fussed with it to make sure everything was as it should be, and then whirled around to beam at Nate, holding out a carving knife.

“Merry christmas, master Nate! Would you do the honors - oh! Careful, you’ll burn yourself… oh my.”

Nate had stepped forward to pull the robot into a hug.

 

 

***

 

 

“I can’t move, I’m too full,” Cait groaned later, leaning back in her chair, top button of her pants open to make a bit more room for her belly, and all around the table others sighed their agreement. There had been eggnogs. Real eggnogs. And overeating was just the beginning.

They played games. They opened gifts. A lot of lightheartedness and laughing was involved in everything they did. Nate taught some of his favorite christmas songs to everyone, which meant quite a few random choirs forming whenever a familiar song came on.

Codsworth and Nick - and eventually Nate - shared memories of the pre-war christmases, while Danse’s arm around Nate’s shoulders anchored him to the present. And when it was getting dark, they all simply lounged around, watching the candles and the fireplace, enjoying the surroundings and each other’s company.

Until one of the kids squealed outside and startled everyone out of their perfectly fine food coma. They scrambled to get up and run for the door, only to find -

“It’s _snowing_!”

And for the first time that winter, snow was gently floating down, covering the ground and wrapping the Sanctuary in a tranquil, bluish hue.

Nate caught some on his palm, grinning as it touched his skin and melted. He turned to Danse and nearly melted himself as he saw snowflakes clinging to his hair and lashes.

“I bet this was all part of your plan, too,” he murmured.

“Of course,” Danse acknowledged, mouth quirking up, “but there’s still one more thing you need to see.”

Nate cocked a suggestive eyebrow at that, and Danse huffed out a laugh, taking his hand.  
“...I mean besides that. Come with me.”

Nate couldn’t resist. “I frequently do, babe.”

Danse groaned and tried to suppress a grin, but failed. “Oh my god. Remind me again why I put up with you?”

“You think I’m irresistible and insanely hot.”

“Guess you got me there. Now come on.”

 

 

***

 

 

Danse took him home. Hand on the doorknob, he hesitated, biting his lip. It was adorable, but he seemed so serious Nate didn’t mention it just yet. After a brief struggle to find words Danse sighed, smiled sheepishly and shrugged, simply going with “I hope you like it,” and went through the door.

Danse flipped a switch to turn on the lights, and there, hanging on the living room walls, was a whole set of new drawings and paintings. They were… Nate stepped closer to the first one and his heart nearly stopped.

It was as if someone had pulled a memory straight from his brain. Pictured there, in vivid detail, was a piano, a bunch of his cousins hanging around it, a young boy with unruly black hair trying to simultaneously play and reach for the sheet music one of the others had snatched. The boy was Nate. And there was a glowing, deep green christmas tree in the background.

He continued to the next one, not noticing how his hand rose to hold his clenching stomach.  
It was Nora, dimple and all, drawn from the side with simple but strong lines, lashes long enough to almost reach her cheekbone, faintly freckled nose pressing into Shaun’s plush baby cheek.

Mom and dad in their library, clearly engaged in one of their entertaining and educational debates, both looking for evidence the other had it all wrong. Mom, perched on the ladder, reaching down to give a book to his dad. Dad absentmindedly holding one hand up to take it, his reading glasses precariously balancing on the very tip of his nose as he looked at another book, open on the table. Everything about the picture was just right - even the books on the shelves were exactly as he remembered them.

There was his childhood home, sundown coloring the white walls and reflecting in the windows.  
Nate in his early teens, sulking over homework in the kitchen.  
His grandparents wedding portraits.  
Mom with her six brothers.  
Nate and his dad bent over a work-in-progress motorcycle.

His mother, looking straight out of the frame, a familiar twinkle in the cerulean eyes softening her solemn features. Nate looked back at her, brushed the glass softly with his fingertips.

“You look like her,” Danse said quietly, hands in his pockets.

Nate smiled. “She would’ve loved you. She was far more mouthy, but your loyalty and sense of humor are definitely related.” He gestured faintly around the room. “How?”

Danse seemed almost shy as he answered. “The twins, with Codsworth’s help. They spent weeks in the Highground, sketching and re-sketching. Codsworth said these are as close to photographs as anyone could hope to get.”

He lifted Nate’s hand to his lips, kissing his fingertips, looking at him intently.  
“I don’t know what it was like to have a family like that, but you’ve given me one here, and if it’s even remotely - uh, I... wanted you to have at least some part of them with you.”

Nate turned to hide his face, just slightly too late.

“If it’s - we don’t have to keep them on the walls like this, if it’s too much,” Danse hurried to explain, stepping closer, “you can take them down, keep them in a drawer or - I just, I hope you - oh baby. Please, sweetie… I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

He circled in front of Nate, curling his fingers under his chin, gently coaxing Nate to look up - and stopped breathing when he did. There might have been tears, but he was smiling, and not in that subdued way he lately had, but really smiling. His radiant, full-on, beautiful thousand watt thing that always made Danse weak in the knees and his brain short-circuit.

“Danse. John…” Nate rarely used that name, knew why he didn’t much care for it. John. It was too generic to really feel _his_ \- unlike Danse - as if his creators just lost interest and couldn’t be bothered to think up anything else. Somehow it had more meaning, felt more intimate, coming from Nate, and he swallowed thickly.

“I don’t even know how to - this was, _is_ , the perfect gift. Not just the pictures. Today. All of it was perfect. _You_ are perfect.”

Danse’s cheeks colored. “Far from it,” he mumbled a protest, but Nate caught his gaze and he forgot what he was saying.

“You’re perfect for me, Danse.” Nate’s hands were so warm, coming up to cup his jaw, a lovely counterpoint to his still snow-chilled skin. “Thank you. And I’m sorry for making you worry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You have nothing to apologize -”  
Nate cut him off with the sweetest, most lingering kiss.

He licked his lips and tried again when it ended.  
“There’s no need for -” but, again, Nate’s mouth was there, softly swallowing the rest and pulling a low hum deep from his chest.

He was grinning like a fool when they eventually pulled apart.  
“I was saying,” he managed, still out of breath, “there’s no need, but by all means, go on.”

So Nate did.

 

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry christmas, you guys! <3  
> I was writing smut, too, but this somehow felt complete as is. I think I'll just add it as another chapter if I finish it.
> 
> About the names I used here.  
> I've always been hesitant to fully name characters like Danse, or Nate. For a long time I actively avoided doing so, but now I've spent so much time with them, and grown to love these two so much it seemed silly I still didn't have their full names. Hubby suggested John Danse and Nate Adams, because he loves the whole historical name games going on in Fallout, and, well. That was it.
> 
> I probably won't use them unless it's necessary, but at least now I know. :D


	2. Merry Christmas Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well I had to know what happened in the bedroom, so here you go.

***

 

There was a mistletoe hanging in the hallway. 

It wasn’t a real mistletoe, of course, but it was close enough, and seeing it - nearly bumping into it - made Nate laugh. He pulled Danse under it to kiss him senseless and when they eventually separated (slightly), Danse somehow found himself pinned against the wall, which was all good because his legs had turned rather wobbly.

“Is this what usually happened under the mistletoe? Hardly surprising it was such a widespread habit,” Danse managed, wondering how Nate could possibly look so damn _in charge_ , even with those beard burns and swollen lips.

Nate grinned, eyes shining with mischief and still holding him in firm grip, mouth inching closer. “Mm-hmm. Just wait ‘til I show you what else it often inspired.” 

 

***

 

Nate’s hands glided on Danse’s skin, slowly, gooseflesh following the lightest strokes. Nate was _so good_ at this, meticulously mapping his body, making sure to find and pay attention to every sensitive spot he already knew by heart. Nate’s mouth landed on his, again, and again, alternating between tiny kittenlicks and diving in deep enough to swallow his groans - everything about it was steadily driving him mad. 

This was not what he’d expected in the hallway, no, this was something far... more. Between one heartbeat and the next, Nate had sobered, pulled away and taken his hands, the sudden, deep seriousness in his eyes making Danse’s belly jolt. 

He’d been led to the bedroom and undressed between long, slow kisses that left him pliant and loose for Nate to do as he pleased. The blankets were cool under his back, his flesh burning already, but Nate’s touch on him felt even hotter. 

Gently, Nate bit Danse’s bottom lip, closed his mouth around the bite and sucked, lightly, tongue running across it as the tips of his fingers found his nipple, making him bunch the sheets in his fists. The wicked mouth let his lip go with an unhurried pull, ghosting its way to the soft skin under his ear, biting, sucking again, lightly still, making him moan. Nate’s answering purr rippled along his neck.

Nate undid him, deliberately, so easily, stroke after slide after brush after lick. Every hair on his body was standing on end, mouth hanging open for air that Nate just kept stealing. In the dim light he looked down at his lover, kneeling between his legs and looking back with intense, dark eyes, hands splayed on his thighs and thumbs running along the juncture on both sides, unfazed by how his feet dug into the sheets, hips lifting in a useless attempt to direct the touch.

He was gently guided to the edge and pulled away again, once, twice, so many times, with hands and tongue and lips that knew exactly how to mold around and into him, exquisite and just right. 

Nate kept talking to him, whispering against his skin and mouth, words of love and adoration mixed with dirty little encouragements, his voice like caresses that went straight to his cock. Nate’s measured, maddening pace didn’t waver even when Danse pleaded or when he started begging, and not when he was nothing short of desperate, a live wire vibrating with need. 

He was so far gone, so sensitive and ready, that when Nate finally, finally eased inside him, the first slow push began to unravel him. His head tipped back, gasp turning into a sob and he was _moaning_ , needy, almost there, clenching around the penetration and Nate stopped to nuzzle Danse’s jaw, gentle hands coaxing his fists to loosen their grip from the sheets, their fingers intertwining. 

In that aching moment, nothing else existed. Only them, together. Nate’s solid weight bore him down into the bed, enveloping him in warmth and still he felt like maybe he was floating instead. Every inch of their bodies was pressing together, his cock pulsing between them, he was so full and Nate throbbed inside him. 

Carefully Nate moved again, feathering kisses on his face and rasping praises, hand pushing under his ass to lift it just so, to get as deep as possible with every smooth, almost languid thrust. Thighs spreading, knees hitching up higher on Nate’s sides, the angle adjusted and oh - oh. Breathless and wanton, Danse strained again, a muffled groan escaped Nate, too, but the rhythm stayed the same, the shattering pleasure building so gradually.

Nate kissed him and it was almost too sweet and Danse’s heart ached a little, everything was perfect - and as he wrapped shaky fingers around his own cock for that final little nudge, Nate’s hand covered his, foreheads touching. 

“I love you.” It was breathed into his mouth every time Nate rocked into him, with endless patience but gathering momentum just that tiny bit, hands and hips moving in unison, until they finally slipped over the edge, this time swept away, carried and cradled by the wave rather than slamming into it. 

 

***

 

Danse’s amused words broke the silence, muffled against Nate’s neck. “I don’t think I want to know how often that little twig inspired something like this.” 

Nate propped his head on his hand. “While _that little twig_ is fun and all,” he murmured, grinning, and brushed a kiss on Danse’s brow, “you’re absolutely the only one to inspire anything like this in me.” His grin turned impish. “Though now that you mentioned it, I wonder if any of the others -”

“Shush! Nope, nuh-uh. I can live without those mental images,” Danse hastily interrupted, rolling on top of him and pressing fingers on his lips. “I’d rather you elaborate on things I inspire in you - oh you _minx_.” A delighted laugh escaped Danse. Nate had sucked the fingers into his mouth.

Nate took his time letting them go, the mischievous but oh so warm smile still playing on his lips as he finally did. His hands came up to cup Danse’s face and then continued into his mussed hair, ending up around his neck. 

“I’ll be sure to elaborate, every day for the rest of my life - starting in the morning, since I’m not exactly a teenager anymore.” 

Danse’s teeth flashed in the dark. “Did I wear you out?”

“Older than dirt, remember?”

Soft laughs, some shuffling and murmured words later they were asleep, wrapped firmly in each others arms. Christmas day came to an end. Many more were to come.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They make me smile *so hard* <3


End file.
